We all have attitude. How we choose to use this attitude, how to form this attitude is up to us. We wake each morning and can decide to have a good attitude, take things in stride and really be close to God. Or we can wake up cranky and mean and stray from our Father. Which attitude do you choose?
Her tongue flicks out and slips across her lips. Her eyes are beetle red, glowing and glancing with pulses of rock-concert light. Her hair swirls in endless currents.
You’re not gonna get your way with me. No, not with that sh***y attitude. Not with that temper and that perspective on who I am, and not with that greasy sneer dragged across your face. I am not interested in your diatribes; I am not going to listen to your excuses. You can pack everything up in one or two bags and get out – you don’t get a second chance with me. Hell, you shouldn’t have even gotten one.
Belinda Roddie
Belief, I tell myself, is the thing that matters most. Not what I came here with, not what everyone keeps telling me my future is destined to be — but belief in my ability to do this, to be this, and to become this thing I have decided I want to become.
I can do this, I tell myself.
This is within my grasp.
I take a deep breath and sit down, pencil in hand, ready for the final test.
It only took one flash of teeth for his attitude to change from boisterous and loud to cowering and apologetic.
We all have attitude. How we choose to use this attitude, how to form this attitude is up to us. We wake each morning and can decide to have a good attitude, take things in stride and really be close to God. Or we can wake up cranky and mean and stray from our Father. Which attitude do you choose?
Her tongue flicks out and slips across her lips. Her eyes are beetle red, glowing and glancing with pulses of rock-concert light. Her hair swirls in endless currents.
there rests a quiet synergy between attitude and aptitude
You’re not gonna get your way with me. No, not with that sh***y attitude. Not with that temper and that perspective on who I am, and not with that greasy sneer dragged across your face. I am not interested in your diatribes; I am not going to listen to your excuses. You can pack everything up in one or two bags and get out – you don’t get a second chance with me. Hell, you shouldn’t have even gotten one.
Belief, I tell myself, is the thing that matters most. Not what I came here with, not what everyone keeps telling me my future is destined to be — but belief in my ability to do this, to be this, and to become this thing I have decided I want to become.
I can do this, I tell myself.
This is within my grasp.
I take a deep breath and sit down, pencil in hand, ready for the final test.